


Level Ground

by Erisette



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Accidental Marriage, F/M, Found Family, Mature Talks About Relationships, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-10-03 14:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10249343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erisette/pseuds/Erisette
Summary: Six scenes from an accidental marriage





	1. The Beginning (pt 1)

**Author's Note:**

> _*clings to Pikelan with all the strength in my scrawny arms* let mom and dad be happy!! Title from the poem "The Country of Marriage" by Wendell Berry_

 

 

He had been expecting a big, bustling port town. It was big, and there was a port, but with very little bustle involved. Scanlan went up to the first person he saw, an old man of indeterminate species who was sitting on the side of a cistern and smoking a truly impressive cigar. "Hello there! I haven't missed the festival, have I? I heard it only happens once a decade!"

  
"Aye, but it lasts for ten nights. This will be the first night, so everyone's resting up." The man stopped and gave him a keen look. "You...you do know that this is the _bonding_ festival, right? Of Shelyn?"

  
"Of course," Scanlan said confidently. He didn't know much about Shelyn, although any diety that made love and music her domain earned points with him, and what little he knew about the 'bonding festival' had come from a very obliging elvish lady he'd encountered in Stillben a few years back. He'd made a mental note at the time to come if he could, and the fact that it was falling in the period of free time while Vox Machina's keep was being built seemed like a sign. "'Bonding' is something I do very well, and as for music..." he swept his arms out to the side and bowed deeply.

  
"Hnn." The old man looked amused now. "You have a sweetheart meeting you here then?"

  
"Say instead that I am single and ready to mingle."

  
"Ahhh, I see." The smile he gave Scanlan was a little patronizing, but he tapped ash off his cigar and pointed down the street in a friendly way. "Well, since it's 'mingling' you're after, you'll want a prominant marker. Armband is traditional, of course, but The Frisky Basilisk does headbands if you want something more eye-catching. There's three ships in port, so there's likely to be a run on them."

  
"You are a gentleman and a scholar," Scanlan said, and went off with a spring in his step and a whistle on his lips. The proprieter of the tavern did indeed have both arm- and headbands for sale, from ten copper for the most basic to a truly elaborate concoction displayed behind glass for an outrageous amount. Scanlan selected a middle-of-the-road adornment, and paid the required gold piece as he tied it around his forehead at a rakish angle. It was red and purple and gold, embroidered with chrysanthemums and songbirds, and Scanlan was enormously pleased with it.

  
"Is there a room available as well, ma'am?" he asked, sliding another gold piece across the bar. The broad-shouldered half-elven woman behind the bar gave him a once-over and pushed the coin back.

  
"No, there isn't, but if you perform for my guests for a couple hours each night, there's a cot in the storage room you can have for free." Scanlan opened his mouth to agree and she cut him off with a raised finger: "However! If you take a partner at any point I don't want any 'final bonding' happening amongst my ale and spices."

  
"Madam," he said brightly, "You have a deal!"

  
The proprieter ("Fuck's sake, man, just 'Raya' is fine, I'm no madam,") suggested he take the opportunity to get some sleep before things started happening around dusk, and he took the advice. On waking several hours later he was fed, watered, and placed on a stage where he sang his guts out for a solid hour before being dismissed to enjoy the festival at large. The crowd in the tavern had been rowdy, to be sure, but the streets were something else entirely. In the dark, the fairy-lights entwined with silk banners and great bunches and drifts of chrysanthemums were a sight to behold, and the crowd was cheerful and social, full of mixing and matching and colorful sashes. Scanlan threw himself in with great enjoyment, and had a glorious time flirting with a cornucopia of other single-and-interesteds. A few hours before dawn he returned to the tavern for another set, playing to another appreciative crowd that tipped far more than he'd spent in his time away. He took to his bed as the sun came up, tired but satisfied that this was the wisest damn decision he'd made in some time.

  
The next night was more of the same, if not busier. People started getting friskier, too--more than a few offered him kisses in lieu of coin as tips, and he enthusiastically returned every one. This time when out around the city he was able to pick up more details he'd missed before: for one, there was a good number of people without any kind of marker. Locals, he guessed, not here to participate in the festivities: the younger ones seeming overwhelmed and a little resentful, the elder amused and jaded (and doing brisk business in whatever trade they practiced). There were also quite a few devotees of Shelyn to be seen, in their leggings, tunics, and skirts of red and silver. A few of them even wore the 'markers' around their arms, although most seemed to be here on, for lack of a better word, business. Scanlan went to the temple, out of curiosity and a small whimsical impulse to pay tribute to the goddess who knew how to throw such a nice party, and found it stunningly beautiful and alive with music. He played his flute for a moment, collecting a small audience, before returning to the revelry.

  
On the third night, people were increasingly starting to pair off. His crowd of admirers were still a good audience, but now only five or six paid him particular attention. Everyone with markers seemed to be narrowing their focus to a smaller number of interests. In the streets, Shelyn's clergy were throwing frequent impromptu ceremonies, either weddings or engagements, he couldn't be sure. There was a surprising lack of consummation that he saw--plenty of connections, and plenty of canoodling, but most people seemed to be operating under an unspoken agreement to not turn the party into an orgy. Pity! But he wasn't one to turn down a good canoodle, even without sex at the end of it.

  
By the fourth night, only three others were still dedicatedly wooing him: a gnomish woman who was pretty and clever, even if she didn't hold a candle to Pike; a halfling woman with a sweet smile and nearly-white hair; and a dwarven man, quite strong and strapping, with clever, scarred fingers. The latter was the one, on the fifth night, who actually invited Scanlan to his bed. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, and gave Raya a cheerful wave as he allowed himself to be led away to the dwarven man's rented room. The dwarf--Nilza--knew what he was doing, and even though Scanlan slightly preferred partners of a more female persuasion he had a glorious time. Nilza apparently agreed: he seemed very pleased with himself, if a little overbearing, and in the morning he gave Scanlan a small smile and proffered him a marker along with his clothes. It wasn't Scanlan's original headband, rather Nilza's armband, but it was quite nice as well and Scanlan obligingly tied it on.

  
There was a bit of an awkward moment as his partner seemed disinclined to let him go, even to play his required set at The Frisky Basilisk, but Scanlan was able to talk himself loose without too much trouble. After the set Nilza reclaimed him. He was as handsome as ever, but he was beginning to become unsettlingly posessive, and so Scanlan started the delicate work of disentangling himself. Nilza listened, with confusion at first, then increasing anger. "This is the _bonding_ festival," he interrupted at one point. Scanlan smiled winningly.

  
"Indeed! And I really do feel like we've bonded. I've had an amazing, amazing time. But--" Nilza cut him off by picking him up off the bench he was sat on and planting him firmly on the ground. Without another word, he grabbed Scanlan's elbow--almost painfully tight, and Scanlan began mentally going over spells--and dragged him out into the crowd. It just took a minute for him to find what he was apparently looking for.

 

"Cleric," he said strongly, and the devotee of Shelyn looked up in question. "I have a dispute."

  
A dispute? Shit. The cleric looked to Scanlan to confirm or deny, and he just shrugged, completely lost. Nilza did finally let go of his arm and Scanlan rubbed it surreptitiously, inching away from the man.

  
"This man consented to be bound," Nilza said. "We enjoyed the final bonding and exchanged markers." Scanlan touched the headband, feeling a sinking feeling rapidly weighing down his guts. "But now he says that he will not stay."

  
"Now, hold on," Scanlan protested stridently. "Just because two consenting adults have consensual relations, it doesn't mean something binding has occurred, final or otherwise."

  
"And the marker?" The cleric asked.

  
"I just grabbed a scarf! I hardly realized it was his instead of mine." Both cleric and dwarf were looking at him like he wasn't making any sense, and his mental recitation of spells became a little more frantic.

  
"...this is the _bonding_ festival," Nilza said again.

  
"It is true that no one participates that does not want to be bound," the cleric said. "No one may be forced to wear the marker, or to speak with another, or to lay with another. The geas of Shelyn does not permit it. Surely you would sense--"

  
"Scanlan is pretty blind to divine magic," a new voice came in, a beautiful, glorious, astonishing voice. "I told him...you know, that he, that he could have fun while he waited for me--I'm sure he didn't mean to offend Shelyn, or anyone else for that matter!"

  
An angel had come to his rescue, and Scanlan felt his chest tighten with bursting joy and love.


	2. The Beginning (pt 2)

  
"Pike!" Scanlan cried, sounding delighted. He rounded on her and looked her over head to toe. His gaze caught on the gnarly new facial scar and she saw his mouth open to ask the obvious question, brows drawing together in concern. To shut him up, she lunged forward and kissed him on the mouth. It wasn't a long kiss, but it wasn't exactly a peck either, and he squeaked into it.

She drew back and gave him a quick relieved grin. "You trust me, right?" she asked him in Gnomish. He gave her possibly the most offended look she'd ever seen on his face, and she laughed and clasped his hand in her own. She drew him a little behind her and smiled her best smile up at the other two. "Hi! Sorry! Is everything alright here, uh, officers?" She mentally squirmed as she heard her own voice go up in a slight quaver at the end there.

"You lay claim to this man?" the Dwarf asked. He was very big and buff, and for the first time in months Pike really really wished she was wearing plate. Very much not what you want to be wearing on a ship, but gosh, it was a nice reassurance. Her free hand closed on her holy symbol and she continued to smile at him.

"Well, I wouldn't say it that way, really? We kind of have claim on each other, it's not like I own him or anything--" ("You kind of do, pearl of my heart," Scanlan said sotto-voice) "--we spend time apart but always come back together in the end, you know?"

"This man--"

"He has a name," Pike interrupted him in Dwarvish, firmly. "Do you even know it?" The dwarf scowled but didn't answer, and the cleric looked back and forward between them with interested eyes.

Scanlan came out from behind her and extended his arm towards the dwarf, embroidered headband in hand. "Here you go, friend Nilza," he said, all kindness, but with a very slight pointed emphasis on _Nilza_. "I really didn't mean to mislead you."

"So sir, ma'am, you two are here for the bonding?" The cleric asked.

"Well...yeah," Pike said. She angled her arm forward to show off her makeshift armband ( _very_ makeshift--it was just her old blue scarf, stiff with salt and ratty around the edges).

"Do you wish me to perform the ceremony? Then there would be no more, ah, misunderstandings."

"Well, I mean, Pike--" Scanlan began, but Pike spoke over him, putting her chin out mulishly.

"Of course, sure," she blustered.

Nilza ripped off his armband and threw it at Scanlan's feet, ignoring the one held out to him, and stomped away. The cleric cleared their throat, mostly looking amused, and indicated Pike's scarf. "May I?" Pike untied the cloth and handed it over, and the cleric directed the two gnomes to hold out their clasped hands. Pike did so, not without a little internal fidget: Scanlan seemed completely fine, but then he was such a good actor who really knew? The cleric crouched down--they were aasimar, and more than twice the height of Pike and Scanlan--and very seriously wound the scarf around their wrists, binding them together. As they did so they spoke words that Pike recognized but didn't understand, in Celestial. It didn't seem to be a spell, as such, but as they released their grasp Pike felt a warm glow encircle her wrist and climb up her body. "Go in peace," the cleric said warmly.

"Thank you," Pike said, a little shaken but determined not to show it. "I, um, I was wondering...there isn't a temple to Sarenrae here, is there? I don't want to offend Shelyn, but I was wondering...."

The cleric cocked their head to the side in a moment of confusion before their expression cleared. "Oh! Yes, Sarenrae. I haven't met many of her followers, but her domain and my lady's do not come into conflict. You are welcome to use our temple for prayer."

"Thank you," Pike said fervently, and bowed. The aasimar bowed back, a very low sweeping gesture that brought their head level to her own, before gliding away. Scanlan tugged at their joined hands, leading them to a side street, and Pike waited until there was no one near before whispering, "I'm so sorry, Scanlan! I just, I panicked, it seemed, it just--"

"Pike, honey, please," he said. He would have seemed completely unphased, but the hand in hers was trembling just a tiny bit. "You came to my rescue! Like a, like a, just...how in the nine hells are you _here_??"

"My ship is in port," she said weakly. "I was gonna stay on board, because, you know, because the captain warned all the new sailors about the festival, and, you know, the markers and stuff...but I just felt, I don't know, _antsy_." She did a little wriggle in place, even mentioning it sending a ghostly echo of the sensation along her limbs. "I felt a kind of, I don't know. A kind of _heaviness_ \--about you. I pray for you, for all of you, of course, all the time, and since the festival started when I prayed for you I just felt...I don't know. Anxious, I guess."

"You pray for me?"

"Scanlan," she scolded. "Of _course_ I do." His eyes were hard to meet, somehow, and she looked up to see where they were going, and saw the soaring heights of the temple ahead. "Oh! You don't have to--I mean, I know you aren't religious."

"Not at all," he agreed. "But Shelyn is all right by me, and I owe a debt to Sarenrae that I can never repay."

"That is really nice," she said, and squeezed his hand convulsively.

The temple was beautiful, full of air and light and color and music...and people. Everywhere, people. Pike led Scanlan through room after room, all of which had some sort of inhabitant--whether newly-bound couples clasping their tied hands and talking, or clerics performing, or just people taking in the sights. Most people didn't pay them any particular notice, although everyone who did offered them some sort of blessing on their binding. By the tenth or twelfth room Pike was starting to become frustrated, and Scanlan set his feet and halted their movement. "What's the matter, Pikey? You not like this temple after all?"

"I love it," she said, sincere but aggravated. "It's beautiful, and everyone is so kind. But I want to _talk_ to you--we _need_ to talk--and I don't really want an audience, but every room--!"

Scanlan cocked his head sideways in thought, then smiled at her. It was a wicked smile, the kind that usually preceded some kind of trouble, and she felt herself perk up in anticipation. "Hang on tight," he said, and folded his free arm around her shoulders. Before she could ask what he was up to, he sang a quick incantation under his breath and the world disappeared in a flash of dark purple. When it flashed back into view they were somewhere else entirely, and after a moment of disorientation Pike figured out they were on the roof.

"Woah!" she laughed, stumbling a little on the tiles. Scanlan steadied her, looking enormously pleased with himself. "That's a new one!"

"I've learned a lot while you were away, Pikey-pants," he bragged, and they both looked about for a good place to sit. There was rather a lot of angles and curves, in keeping with the elaborately beautiful architecture of the temple, and most eaves had bird feeders tucked into them for the songbirds that flocked to the temple. "I'm surprised this place isn't lousy with bird-shit," Scanlan said frankly.

"Oh, there's spells for that," Pike said. "Shelyn's followers probably don't feel the need to keep bird droppings around to appreciate the beauty of the birds."

"Sensible people." Scanlan allowed himself to be led to Pike's choice of seat, under a slight overhang that kept off the wind while letting the sun through. They sat down a little awkwardly, and Scanlan lifted up his right wrist--dragging Pike's along with where they were still tied together. "Shall we take this off?"

"We probably better," Pike admitted. Scanlan worked at the thing for a moment, but couldn't seem to make any progress: that cleric knew knots to put a sailor to shame. Pike pulled out her belt knife and offered it to him to use. For a moment she thought he was going to ask why she didn't use the knife to sever it herself, which would have been awkward because she had no _idea_ why, but in the end he just slid the knife carefully under the scarf and cut it in one smooth motion. As it fell away Pike felt a strange pang of loss that solidified as a lump in her throat. They separated their hands slowly, carefully, and Pike thought for a moment she saw a long golden thread connecting their wrists.

"What do you want to talk about?" Scanlan said softly. His voice could be very gentle sometimes, and right now it was so low Pike had to strain to hear it. "You know I won't hold you to anything, right? I know you just did it to help me out of a bind."

"Oh, Scanlan..." Pike felt the lump in her throat block off further words, and cleared it briskly. "I know. Of course I know. But, uh...I don't know if Shelyn will?" He looked alarmed, and she rushed to add, "Not, I mean, not. Oh man. I just mean...I don't think the ceremony was just a...formality?"

"That doesn't sound good," Scanlan said. His voice was still soft but now it was a little squeaky as well.

"You really can't feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"It's like a...a..." Pike gestured between their wrists, to the severed scarf, to his heart and then her own. "You know?"

He gave her a cockeyed look. "You lost me."

"Oh, I don't know," she grumbled. "There's some kind of divine magic involved. I just think it's a bit more of a real, I don't know. A real thing." He looked kind of disturbed, and she clasped both of his hands in hers, meeting his eyes forthrightly. "You know I won't hold you to anything either, right? Even if we're like, technically, or divinely, married. We already loved each other, right? We were already family. So anything else is, I don't know. Icing."

"Icing." There was a very strange non-expression on his face, but he squeezed her hands in his own. "So nothing changes?"

"I guess?" She huffed out a helpless breath, blowing her bangs out of her face. "Or maybe...we'll see? I do...I do love you, you know."

"And I love you," he said, in his gentlest voice yet, and Pike didn't dare meet his gaze.

"And there is...there _is_ someone...oh, I don't know. It'll work out, is all, I know it will."

"Of course," he said, the old confidence back in his voice. "Do you want to pray now?"

"Oh! Yes. I mean--you really don't mind?"

"Like I said. Me and her are good."

Pike smiled at him, unable to help herself. "Okay." She bent her head over their joined hands and closed her eyes, thinking, _you don't mind right? I hope we haven't offended you--or Shelyn! I don't want to, you know, profane a sacred tradition just because Scanlan and me aren't actually lovers. And please don't let it bother Scanlan either: I know he likes talking love and making love, so don't let him feel like he can't do what makes him happy, okay? I may not be in love with him but I love him and want him to be happy._

_Oh, child_ , the voice echoed warm and golden and amused in her head, clearer than she'd heard it in some time.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _let me know how this one read, fellows: third-person-limited kinda kicked my butt? scanlan is like the heisenberg uncertainty principle of people, and pike is such a bundle of contrasts. i just want to do them right!_


	3. Scene 1: Fear

Grog crashed through the roof, and Pike had just a moment to think _wait, I should have got on his back--!_ when the foot she was sitting on hit the ground and she was jarred loose with a clatter like a drunk trying to navigate a kitchen. "Pike! Are you okay?"

She couldn't see Scanlan, but stuck her arm in the air thumb-up anyway. "I'm great!" The corner of her heart that wasn't entirely her own warmed with relief without losing any of its worry, and it made her a little slow in scrambling back to her feet because...now, here's the thing. After the whole bonding...debacle...they'd parted ways for the final month before the reunion at their new keep, and other than the bunkroom seeming strangely echoingly quiet in the dark corners that felt like they should have noise, it was fine. And back at the newly-dubbed Greyskull, in all the business of auditioning guards and hiring servants and getting their mission from Allura, it hardly made a difference that Scanlan's presence seemed a lot more _sticky_ than usual, like a part of him was still with her even when they were separate. She might have felt a little weird and itchy under the collar when him and Grog had gone to visit the professional ladies, well, that was just her own weird hangups, wasn't it. But now?

A duregar's warpick caught Scanlan in the shoulder, and he turned his yelp into a strangled "...I'm fine!" before she could even ask. "No really, I'm cool!" With that obvious statement, he raised his arms, singing something under his breath, and the duregar general suddenly stopped what he was doing and dropped his war hammer. "Drop your weapons! We are surrendering!" the general bellowed to his soldiers, and there was a pause as the entire room seemed to stagger to a halt. Scanlan looked confident and proud, but the not-quite-living-in-Pike part of Pike thought he seemed a little anxious.

That was, of course, the point where everything would go to shit.

Pike lost sight of Scanlan in the wild scrum that followed, as she lit up the giant bug-thing with a guiding bolt and all her companions beat the living daylights out of it. There was a high-pitched shout of pain, and a flash of fear over their tenuous link, but she thought she saw a flash of energy like a Dimension Door spell out of the corner of her eye, so Scanlan was probably still holding his own. She scrambled out of the way as Keyleth turned into a giant beast, and only just managed to catch sight of Scanlan giving her a big cheesy grin and wink, which was very silly and oddly inspiring, before the bug creature leapt away, dragging Percy with it and landing on Scanlan and Clarota with a terrifying crunch. Her friends were still a little staggered by how quickly the thing had moved, but Pike clicked the heels of her wonderful sprinter's boots and wove out from between their legs to make it to the center of the room.

She was just in time to see the creature grab Scanlan in its giant toothy mouth: they both screamed, she thought, but Scanlan's was cut off as the beast bit down on him and thrashed its whole head from side to side, sending ugly ribbons of blood flying out to spatter the platform and the walls and Pike. Steeling herself, she leaped for the platform--it was _almost_ a disaster, but she successfully scrambled up--and lunged forward to close her hand around his limp wrist and cast the strongest Cure Wounds she could muster. The creature started to thrash its head again: Pike kept hold of Scanlan's wrist but grabbed his shoulder too, and set her feet, making herself as heavy and anchor-like as possible to try and restrict the monster's movement. Scanlan's eyes shot open and went unerringly to her even though he still had to be in agony and the thing was still tearing at him. "Pike!" he choked out, seeming delighted: then a much less delighted series of words, in Gnomish, which was just as well because they were _very very rude indeed_.

"Scanlan!" she said without meaning to, in scandalized glee, and then Grog was there, bringing his ax down with an enraged bellow that ripped the jaw wide and made it drop Scanlan right on top of Pike.

"Sorry!" He coughed, probably for landing on her rather than for the language. She hugged him to herself, rolling to put herself between him and potential danger while casting another healing spell into his torn side. "Thank you, my love!" he said, already sounding stronger, and...well, here's the thing. Pike's brain was eternally torn between two equally likely and potentially dangerous possible Scanlans. One of them was even more attached to her than she was to him. That Scanlan meant it down to the ground when he called her those pretty, silly things like 'my heart', was genuinely utterly thrilled at a sign of affection or physical touch from her. The other was a good friend, someone who was attracted to her and would enjoy a good roll in the hay, but flirted out of fun and habit rather than because of some excessive partiality. _That_ Scanlan could very easily break her heart, which was kind of in an unarmored position, to be honest. The first would in a lot of ways require gentle, kind handling, so as to be sure she didn't break _his_ heart: the later could do with a good butting-of-heads and counter-teasing to keep him humble and both their wits sharp.

So she didn't say anything as she smiled and set him on his feet.

(Later, the twins began to stealthily head off to investigate a mysterious red pillar and Scanlan declared his intention of following them. His un-sneaky self was starting to hum a jaunty tune as he started out, and Pike stopped him, grabbing the back of his jerkin and leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. He froze as if in the grips of a Hold Person spell, and she gave him her best cautionary look, the one that could make Grog stop picking up and licking things that might be poisonous. "Be careful, okay?" she said very quietly, in their language. "Don't make me a widow, huh?" His only response was a cocky grin and cross-my-heart, but the feeling in their shared heartspace...well. She knew which Scanlan it made more likely.)


	4. Scene 2: Outside

Not a hundred yards from the entrance of the Slayer's Take there was a small courtyard built around a very old, twisty little tree, quite lean and gnarled but with an appealing silhouette, and seated under it carefully cleaning his flute was Scanlan Shorthalt. Zahra had spend some years now choosing not to be hesitant, and she chose so again, approaching him. He didn't seem to notice her approach, so as not to startle him she called out: "Hello, Scanlan!" He looked up with the casual glance of a barkeep seeing the town drunk coming in at the usual time.

"Oi," he said, and favored her with a smile, even as he continued about his work. "What's up?"

The scale of the tree was much more suited to him than to her, but nonetheless Zahra sat on the little circle of grass under it a safe arm's-length away. "Oh, you know. Nothing much, I'm afraid." He hummed and bent his head over his work, fitting the pieces back together with a finesse that caught her gaze and held it. He was strangely lovely, she had already noticed, although she was not much accustomed to gnomes and at first found the size of the eyes rather disconcerting, huge and iris-dominated. Still, there was something arresting in that unusual face, not the lesser for the new faint scar cutting across the bridge of his nose after their ordeal with Rimefang. "And you? Not as eager to reunite with the rest of your party?"

"Oh, them? We reunited, and there was joy and tears on every face. It's enough to write a song about. But one sometimes needs a break, even from good friends, don't you think?" She watched him decide to be honest with her, and saw him decide to let her see him decide: "I'm waiting for someone."

"Would you like me to leave?" She asked easily. The four days they'd shared, she and Scanlan and the others, were enough for her to know that if he said yes it would not be cruelly meant.

Scanlan put his instrument away in his pack and rested his chin in his hand, looking her over with those eyes. "Not really?"

"Such confidence," Zahra teased him, and whatever riposte he would have made was interrupted by a bright clear voice that said,

"Oh! Hello!"

At the entrance to the little shady courtyard was another gnome: a woman, this one, dark of skin and white of hair, bigger and broader than Scanlan with eyes even larger. "Pike!" Scanlan cried. Even though he had claimed to be waiting for someone, he seemed surprised. "I thought you would still be working on your temple!"

A holy woman? As she came nearer, Zahra did see a prominent holy symbol swinging from a chain around her neck. Her quilted gambeson had the markings of much wear from armor, and her open, friendly face was enlivened with many scars. Her smile, which she turned on Zahra and Scanlan both, was breathtaking, and had a chipped front tooth. "The tower--you know, the creepy one over top the ruins?--turns out it's not just creepy, it's actually cursed. We hired a priest of the Raven Queen to cleanse it, so until that's done I'm a little at odd ends." Zahra decided against getting to her feet, instead holding out her hand from her position on the ground: this left her more or less at eye level with the new arrival. "I'm Pike," the woman said, taking the offered hand in a strong grip. Her level, wise eyes took in Zahra's entire being--her garb, her staff, the horns and tail and hooves and red skin--and accepted it whole-cloth without even a blink.

"Pike, this is Zahra," Scanlan butted in. "She is _really_ cool. We had this whole thing with the Slayer's Take, and she saved all our bacon at one moment or another--Zahra, Pike has also slain a white dragon!"

"Team effort, darling," Zahra said, overlapping Pike's astonished noise.

"A dragon?? Really?" She released Zahra's hand and squared up with her fellow gnome, looking him over with eyes narrowed to thin blades of ice. Scanlan's clothes were mended with magic and with needle, but Pike's gaze unerringly sought out every near-invisible rent. "Scanlan, are you alright?"

"Don't worry about me, honey, I'm fine," Scanlan reassured her, his voice deep and tender. Pike, unreassured, planted her fists on her hips and gave him a stern look that swept out to include Zahra as well.

"Scanlan," she said disapprovingly, and for the first time Zahra caught a hint of a waver in Scanlan's near-flawless exterior.

"Would you prefer to be alone?" Zahra offered again. "Because if not, I insist you join me for dinner. The boarding-house I am staying in can put out a damn good spread."

"That sounds amazing," Pike said, and smiled at her as she grabbed Scanlan's hand in her own and swung their entwined fingers between them. "Right, Scanlan?"

"Sure," Scanlan agreed. "I'm always easy for a good home-cooked meal."

 

They were slower than she was, owing to the shorter legs, but they made surprisingly good time to the section of the Quadroads that held the boarding house. The stairs that seemed so narrow to Zahra were plenty wide for her smaller companions, and the common room they opened out to was quite roomy and uncluttered. "Dinner shouldn't be but an hour, my dears."

"Try two, Noriya has been pushing it back," came a rich deep voice that overlapped with another which was saying, "Zahra, dear, your tastes are stranger than anticipated!"

"You'll make a poor impression," she said drily, and stepped aside to introduce the two pairs to each other. "Scanlan, Pike, these are some of the other boarders, Rosewood and her partner Jon." The two other tieflings, matched in height and adornment but completely dissimilar otherwise, made the appropriate noises and came forward to trade handclasps. If the gnomes recognized the jewelry and body art that marked her housemates as prostitutes, it didn't seem to have any effect on the cordiality of their greeting--which was polished and flirtatious on Scanlan's end, less polished but more sincere on Pike's.

"Is this a tiefling boarding house?" Pike asked with charming frankness, and all three tieflings laughed.

"Oh, not as such, Pike," she said.

"Vasselheim is cosmopolitan, in some ways, but we infernals do tend to invite suspicion," Rosewood said with a conspiratory wink. "So when we find a welcoming hostess we tend to wash up in the same places."

"It is all-horns, now, Zahra," Jon added. "The dwarves have moved on, so it's just us and Albatross now."

"Sounds like the makings of a party, to me," Scanlan said. He was mirroring the body language of the two escorts, save for the fact that he was still glued to Pike's side. "Shall we?"

"Sounds like fun," Pike said brightly. "We shall!"

***

  
"What was it you called it again?" Zahra asked Scanlan. He didn't look up from where he was concentrating intently on painting her fingernails.

"Slumber party."

"Not a lot of sleeping going on," Zahra pointed out. Across the room, Jon was applying lacquer to Pike's toe-nails, while Albatross and Rosewood were building a remarkably high castle of playing cards--remarkable given the amount of whiskey they'd each imbibed.

"Figure of speech," Scanlan said with a shrug as he finished her pinky nail and capped the little bottle of silver paint. He'd toed out of his shoes hours ago, demonstrating a party trick where he played the lute with his feet, and now he wiggled all ten surprisingly flexible toes at her. "Do me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she said in her most husky voice. He didn't laugh, but he did give her a very approving sort of look as she pulled his feet into her lap.

"Don't tempt me. You _are_ a beautiful woman," he said, in a sultry voice of his own, and a very silly girlish part of her warmed. It was all part of the game, of course, but she'd rarely met someone with a force of personality equal to her own and was rather enjoying the experience. Her own charm was well-practiced and honed as a weapon against the world, but against him it didn't strike home, or glance off, but almost seemed to be accepted in with barely a ripple, like one stream of water merging with another. "And it is the best slumber party I've been to in years," he added, not raising his voice but tugging at his left earlobe as he did so, and across the room Pike glanced over at them and waved.

"The earring," Zahra said, finishing the right foot and selecting another color for the left. "Enchanted?"

"Yeah," he admitted, and tilted his head to show it to her. "For communication. You know the Message cantrip? Kind of like that. I thought I heard one of my fellows over it a while back, but nothing clear."

"Do you think they're in some sort of trouble? Should we go look for them?"

"Probably to the first, nah to the second. They can take care of themselves, and besides, you can't leave a slumber party in the middle of the night!"

_"Damn straight_!" Pike cried out, and the others cheered, although Zahra rather doubted they knew what they were cheering for. The cheer knocked over the tower of cards and Albatross swore a paint-stripping oath in fluent, archaic Elvish. The scattered cards actually burst into flame at the rebuke, and she swore even louder as she grabbed a decanter of water and used it to put out the flames. (She almost pitched the flask of liquor on it by mistake, but an uproariously-laughing Rosewood snatched it away just in time.)

Everyone finally passed out as the pale moon was just beginning to fade into the light of dawn, and when they awoke to the pointed throat-clearing of the boarding-house owner some hours later, Pike earned friends for life by curing everyone's hangover with a quick round of spells. (although neither Pike herself or Rosewood seemed to need it--strong heads, those two) Scanlan and Pike then left, after a midday breakfast and only after many promises to stop by the next time they were in the area.

 

...then they came back, a few hours later. "Abandoned by our so-called friends," Scanlan declaimed, making a very convincing show of genuine hurt even from his position being carried piggy-back by Pike. "Dishonor! Complete rudeness! There's nothing for it, friendos--" he unslung his pack and shook it, giving off a clinking of many bottles: "--back to the party!"

"Ye!" Pike crowed, and dumped her burden down in a pile of cushions.

The theme of this night's 'slumber party' was apparently music: Scanlan was in his element, and everyone else sang themselves hoarse and drank themselves silly. This time Zahra and Scanlan were the last ones awake: Rosewood and Jon begged off to spend a few hours at a previous engagement, and Pike and Albatross had tired themselves out with a push-up competition. With an audience of one Scanlan drank more freely and relaxed more deeply. At one point Zahra took a moment to meditate in the little beam of silver moonlight coming through the window, and came back to herself to find him sprawled across her lap humming very quietly to himself. "Alright there, dear?" She asked, feeling rather relaxed and fond herself.

"I'm wonderful," he assured her. "I'm always wonderful."

"Is that so?"

"Yes!" He sat up, not leaving her lap but balancing unsteadily on one of her legs as he leaned in to her ear and whispered: "We're married, you know!"

Zahra's eyebrows shot up. "Oh?"

Scanlan nodded so vigorously he almost tipped himself over. "Yes! It was kind of an accident, but the gods said no-take-back-sies." He shook his head, apparently just to feel his unbound hair whip back and forth, and smiled at her, a besotted smile she knew better than to take personally. "So of course I'm always wonderful."

"Makes sense to me." Zahra wound the fingers of her left hand in his hair and scratched at his scalp, to his evident great enjoyment. "Pike is marvelous. I would be wonderful all the time as well, if I had such a wife."

"Wife..." he sighed, and leaned bonelessly into her scritching hand. "Can't really think of her like that, though."

"Can't you?"

He shrugged, and made grabby gestures at her face until she leaned close enough for him to return the favor by massaging her scalp as well. "The whole 'accident' situation. They may sing songs and tell tales of Scanlan 'Burt "Kingslayer" Reynolds' Shorthalt, but in none of the tales does he ever force anything from an unwilling woman, or man, or other. She doesn't feel like that about me, really."

"And you're..." she began weaving his loose hair into a braid. "...'wonderful', with that?"

"I think so. I used to think I would never be happy until she loved me like I love her, but now...it's nice just to _love_ someone, in't it? Kind of freeing to do it without worrying about hope of return." She only hummed noncommittally in reply, and he let her finish the second braid before slithering off her lap and prodding her towards the other two sleepers. "Come on, Zahra-my-Zahra. Time for good girls and boys to be asleep."

"Certainly, but where does that leave you and I?"

***

On this, the third night, both gnomes evidently decided that the time for 'company manners' was come and gone, because instead of changing into sleeping clothes they just stripped down to just their breeches and called it good. This revealed some impressive old wounds on each, and Pike regaled them all with the tale of how she'd gotten the one that bisected her clean through the abdomen; Scanlan obliged her by telling the tale of her resurrection as well. His delivery was flawless, but he was a bit clingy afterwards. Pike didn't seem bothered. Perhaps that set the tone, for this night was less of a party and more of an extended conversation that wandered through dozens of topics, interrupted with long comfortable pauses and good food. Sleep came at a decent enough hour, even, the sky completely dark with only a faint glint of stars and the palest crescent of moon. This time Pike was the last awake with Zahra, while Scanlan slept with his head cradled in her lap.

"How was it, really?" Pike said softly. Zahra was briefly confused before seeing where her hand was resting protectively over the new red scars where Rimefang had essentially gutted Scanlan.

"Oh, there were some exciting moments to be sure. Starting with the bandit attack..." Zahra told the tale without the flair Scanlan would have managed, but thought she made a creditable showing of herself. Pike wasn't a very good listener, to be honest, apparently having a hard time sitting still and absorbing rather than _doing_ , but she kept silent except for the occasional point of clarification and let Zahra tell the whole thing from beginning to end.

"...wow," she said when the telling was over. "I'm sorry I missed it!"

"We would have been glad to have you," Zahra said, and Pike held her holy symbol with one hand while the other ran down the length of Scanlan's chest and stomach, glowing faintly gold and leaving the scars more white and faded as it passed. "We were lucky to have Scanlan. He's an impressive man."

"He kind of is, isn't he? In a funny way." She patted his side lightly and gave Zahra a smile, subdued but warm. "He really likes you, I can tell. I'm glad my friends were with good people, and that I get to meet you as well."

"You are too kind." Zahra stretched out more comfortably on the cushions, propping her chin in her hands. "He's fun to flirt with, but if you want me--or Jon and Rose--to stop, you need only say the word. Well, I don't think Rose has a problem with dallying with married men, but even she wouldn't butt in on a committed couple."

Pike gave her a keen, insightful glance. "Scanlan told you about the 'married' thing, huh?"

"It _is_ a curious situation, dear," she confessed. "I don't mean to offend by prying."

"But you do mean to pry?" Pike asked, but she mostly seemed amused. "It's...complicated. And confusing. I don't know how I feel, and I for _sure_ don't know how he feels, but I don't want either of us to be all hung up on 'maybe', you know?"

"He loves you. You love him."

"Well, of course. But there's different kinds of love, isn't there?" Zahra, who was not much informed about love, only shrugged in response. "And they can run together, a bit. Maybe. I have..." she covered Scanlan's ears, even though he seemed to be deeply asleep, and whispered, "I _have_ thought about sleeping with him, a time or two."

"Why not?"

"Oh, I don't know. It would be fun, for sure--I've heard enough of his stories to know that!--but it might get messy afterwards. I like sex as much as anyone, but I think sex with Scanlan wouldn't ever be simple. You know? Because I _do_ love him so much. And because he _somethings_ me so much."

"I _don't_ know," Zahra said, "But you make me rather want to."

Pike uncovered Scanlan's ears, gently working her leg out from under his head and putting a pillow in its place. She then stretched luxuriantly and smiled at Zahra again as she curled up with her own cushion. "You're like Percy, a little, I think. He loves other people's problems."

"Thank you...I think." Pike was already asleep, protectively curled big-spoon style around Scanlan, and Zahra laughed. "Good luck with that, love," she murmured, and followed their example.


	5. Scene 3: Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i am very underwhelmed with my own work here, fellows, but I wanted to have it up by today so i surrendered?? i hope you like it and I'm sorry if you don't!_

 

 

 

  
Scanlan's eyes sought her out as he let Kaylie precede him through the door: she gave him a little smile and wave, determinedly reminding herself that she liked Kaylie and she was happy for him, and that he didn't need her permission--even if it did seem a little bit like he was asking for it. She didn't watch him leave, instead devoting her attention fully to the last serving of cobbler that she'd won from Grog mostly by refusing to tap out. Twenty minutes later she was still downstairs when everyone else had started to make their ways to bed. Because of the cobbler. So she was possibly the only one who saw Kaylie come back down the stairs. She looked...Pike wasn't sure how she looked, but she was walking rather quickly and the eyes that had seemed so shrewd earlier didn't even appear to notice that there was someone else downstairs. Pike chewed at her lip, and fretted, and wavered, and prayed, and somewhere in the middle of it all found herself in front of Scanlan's door.

"Scanlan? Can I--" she was interrupted by the doorknob turning and the door clicking slightly ajar. She pulled it fully open, seeing the mage hand that had opened it disappearing in a puff of purple vapor, and gave the room a brief paranoid once-over to make sure nothing seemed amiss. There wasn't anything wrong that she could see, and Scanlan seated on the edge of his bed seemed unharmed, if serious. "Hey, Scanlan."

"Hi, Pike."

He didn't say anything further, and she joined him on the bed, sitting hip-to-hip and swinging her bare feet so they brush-brush-brushed over the top step of the little set of stairs leading to the human-size bed. "So," she said finally. He hummed. "So," she tried again. "Was...is Kaylie okay?"

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, rubbed meditatively at the whisper earring and deliberately slid it off. He tucked it into his pocket, and she did the same with hers, more concerned by the moment. "Hey, Pike." He said. "Know how you joke with Grog sometimes, that if it turns out Goliaths can make babies with other races, then he's gonna find a small army of Grogletts out there in the world somewhere?"

"Yes, of c--oh. _Ohhh_. Oh!" She half turned on the edge of the bed to stare. "Holy shit."

"Yep," he nodded. "Congratulations. It's a girl. I successfully procreated, about twenty years ago."

"...but there's cantrips for that? And teas?"

"Apparently...not. In at least one case."

"Oh, boy." She winced as a thought intruded: "Oh NO...she came to your room! Did...did she not know? Did...."

"Oh, she knew," he said grimly. "She asked to come up to my room, and I told her, well." He inspected his nails. "I told her I was flattered, but committed elsewhere. She said...she said, 'You don't strike me as the sort to suffer from commitment very often'." He looked at her directly for the first time since she'd entered the room, and started to smile.

The smile died as she punched him in his shoulder, hard. The blow was practiced to catch Grog's attention and would probably bruise, but that unsettling fake smile was cut off. "Stop," she said; then as he shrank in on himself a little, caught his hand in hers and repeated more nicely, "Stop."

He couldn't seem to meet her eyes, but his thumb moved slowly across the back of her hand and he watched the motion. "She said, 'Don't get your panties in a wad, old man. I just want to talk away from all this ruckus. We have a lot in common, it seems'. And...well. I guess you saw her leave."

"Yeah. But I'm sure she'll be back! You guys do have a lot in common, I think. I only talked with her a little but she seemed super smart, and funny, and tricksy. And so talented! Now that I know, it seems to obvious, you know? Of course she's a Shorthalt."

Scanlan smiled: a very small smile this time, but real. "She is pretty cool, right?"

"The coolest," Pike avowed. "I can't wait to get to know her better! You're so lucky, Scanlan--and so is she." She knocked her shoulder against his. "You can be kind of a turd, sure, but you're gonna be a great dad."

He clenched her hand tighter in his own, and leaned more and more heavily into her side until his head was resting on her shoulder. "I had no idea she existed. You know that, right? I would have...I wouldn't have...."

"Of course I know that, shut up. I mean it, you're a really good person." He didn't respond, and she squeezed him against her side and mentally tried to impress every warm feeling in her onto him. "You're very, very lovable. She'll come to feel it too, I know she will."

There was a very long silence. Scanlan was the one to break it. "You know I adore you, right?"

"You've said it once or twice, yeah," she said.

"I mean it. You are...if I am any sort of good person, it's entirely because of you. I hate...I'm sorry that I get so much more from you than I give."

"You don't...." Confused, she tripped over her words and scowled, letting go of his hand to pinch his arm very gently. "I would be...I've got Grog, of course, and Wilhand back in Westruun, and even Sarenrae: I've got family. But I think I would be a kind of lonely without you--no, I know I would. You don't just save our bacon on a regular basis, you help keep everyone smiling, you know? I couldn't ask for a better partner. I wouldn't...I don't..." the feelings that welled up were too complex for words, again, and she just wrapped both arms around him and held him tight. "...I was a kind of lonely before I met you. And now I'm not."

He hugged her back, chokingly-tight, then pulled away and beamed at her. "Oh! I almost forgot. I got you a souvenir--Percy's home is still kind of in shambles, but I wanted to bring you something 'cause your time there was as divine goo." She laughed, and he slid off the bed and went to dig in his pack. He came back with something cupped in his hands, and he scrambled carefully up the steps without the use of his arms. "Hold out your hand." She did, bouncing a little in anticipation, and into it he deposited a little figurine of a songbird carved out of whitestone.

"Scanlan! It's great!" She held it closer until she was looking at it cross-eyed, admiring the tiny chisel-marks that defined the stony feathers. She grinned back at him. "Guess what? I have a present for you too!"

"A present?"

"Ye!" She carefully set the bird down on the quilt beside her, and from a pocket pulled a colorful square of material. It was a handkerchief, quite large, embroidered with a border of chrysanthemums. "See? It's mums, like Shelyn's flower--we had the same idea, huh?" He started to thank her, and she pulled out from under her jacket the cord around her neck: it tangled for a moment with the chain holding her holy symbol and she had to work it loose. She unlooped it from over her head and held it out to show the two brightly colored pieces of finely-made pottery. "They have some good markets in Vasselheim. Near the place where I got the kerchief there was a lady selling these flute-things--aren't they neat? I can't play them at all, but I got two, so maybe you can give me a lesson!"

He accepted the one she handed him, which was purple, and inspected it with a professional eye. "An ocarina."

"Well, yeah," Pike said, as if she had any idea what that was.

"Not bad. Crafted for looks as much as sound, probably--halfling-make?" She nodded, and he thoughtfully brought it to his lips and played a clear, precise series of notes. His eye brows went up and he looked approving.

"See? Show me!" Pike demonstrated her own ocarina, and she didn't know what she did different from him but the notes were neither clear nor precise. He laughed at her, and she laughed with him. "See? You make it look too easy." She replaced the cord around her neck and climbed down to the floor, pulling off her jacket and leaving it crumpled by the wall: the little songbird she set down on top of it, carefully, before climbing back on to the bed and arranging herself comfortably against the pillows. "Teach me."

"I dunno if I can concentrate. There _is_ a stunning woman in my bed."

"If you can't share a bed with your wife, who can you? I don't mind sleeping with you." His eyebrows arched up as high as they could go, and Pike buried herself deeper in the pillows and stammered, "I mean I don't mind...I won't...shut _up_ , Scanlan!" Still laughing uproariously, he walked up the bed and dropped down beside her, even as she began to laugh at herself.

"Thanks, Pike. I needed that," he said when he finally got his giggles under control.

"Well, you're welcome. And...we'll find Kaylie in the morning, yeah? I'll be your character reference, and then you guys will talk." He sobered, but his omnipresent smile was back in the dimples in his freckled cheeks.

"You think so?"

"I _know_ so," Pike said firmly, and it was one of the easier times she'd had convincing herself of something.


	6. Scene 4: Reciprocation

  
As Percy left the third basement, stiff but swaggering, Pike pulled herself up on the edge of the pool and surreptitiously cast Healing Word at his back, hearing a very quiet snatch of song beside her as Scanlan did the same. The human left a trail of bright blood droplets behind him but some of the stiffness faded as the spells took hold and she and Scanlan exchanged pleased nods. Everyone else started to follow his example. Pike's, Scanlan's, and Vex's clothes had already been spirited away (hah!) by the spectral servants, but silk robes were left in their place. Pike found an unoccupied corner and shook herself like a puppy, sending a shower of cooling water all 'round, before pulling on her own robe--which was unmistakably hers, being her favorite shade of periwinkle with the symbol of Sarenrae across the back. Vex and Keyleth left together, and Pike was glad to see that Vex's earlier interrogation hadn't made them uncomfortable with each other. Left with her two boys, Pike looked them over with a discerning eye: they'd come out of the battle with Umbrasyl in pretty good shape, and anything that wasn't cured by hot water and a long sleep could be cured in the morning.

"Grog!" she cried, and leaped at him playfully. He didn't dodge although he easily could have, instead letting her barrel into him and then lifting her up by one big hand wrapped around her two wrists, her gauntlets almost disappearing beneath his. She flexed and did a pull up, tucking her chin on top of his fist and blowing a quick raspberry. "Hey, Grog. You good?"

"You know," he said easily, and gave her a little shake to make her work to stay pulled up. "Hard to kill, me."

"You know, except for that time when you literally died, like, less than a week ago," Scanlan pointed out from near Grog's knees. Pike craned her neck to look at him and saw him in a vibrant pink-and-gold robe of his own, his hair sticking up wildly every which-way.

"That was a special circumstance," Grog said with dignity, and dropped Pike right on top of Scanlan. He yelped and tried to catch her, but while he was probably as strong as Percy or the twins he was nowhere near strong enough to catch something as heavy as Pike and they went down in a giggling heap. "You need something, Pike?"

"Can I borrow the Bag of Holding?" Grog shrugged and dropped the bag on top of the pile of gnomes. "Thanks! Now go get some sleep." She beamed at him, proud to bursting. "You earned it--Grog _Dragonslayer_."

"Heh." Grog looked a little bit sheepish. "Old Wilhand will be tickled, you think?"

"He'll bust his buttons," Pike said with confidence. "Oh! Here--" concentrating, she reached into the bag and pulled out the possibly-magic jug they'd gotten from Umbrasyl's hoard. "Hang on to this, yeah? I'm sure you'll figure it out." Grog nodded, and stomped out of the room in his big heavy boots.

"Pike? Sweetheart? She who is both as precious and as dense as gold?" Pike obligingly rolled off Scanlan, pulling the bag with her, and kept rolling until she was facing him with her elbows on the floor and her chin propped in her hands. He scootched around into a mirroring pose and waggled his eyebrows at her. "I know that look, Trickfoot. What idea is marinating in that fiendish brain?"

"You're doing okay, right? Mostly recovered from everything--" she glared and finished pointedly: "--such as _teleporting into the belly of a dragon_? That then _flew off_?"

Scanlan cleared his throat and rolled over to look at her upside-down with a hangdog expression. "Yeeess? I mean, I'm fine. I'm alw--" she reached over and tugged his hair sharply, and he wisely didn't continue the statement.

"Okay!" she said brightly, and scrambled to her feet, bundling the bag under her arm and reaching her free hand down to him. "Come on, then, I have something I want to show you."

"Is it your breasts?" He said, just as brightly. "Because, in case you doubted, I was definitely admiring them earlier. They are as lovely as ever."

"True, true," she said serenely, and grabbed his hand to pull him behind her through the threshold. "And your, ah, 'dalliance' still hasn't fallen off, I see, despite what you put it through. And your scars may not be as cool as mine but you're racking them up pretty good."

"Thanks," he said. "I think?"

"Just don't die," she said, squeezing the hand she held. "Huh? Scars are fine as long as they mean you survived what gave 'em to you. Which is actually related to what I'm going to show you." The training room was very close to the hot springs, and the sand pit was clean and empty. She let go of his hand for just a minute to hop down into it: she landed none too gracefully but didn't hurt herself, and he sat down on the edge and lowered himself more gingerly.

"Are we going to fight, Pikey? Because I hate to tell you, but I think we'd be pretty evenly matched."

"Oh, I know we would be," she said, and suppressed a smile at how pleased that made him. "You're a scary-powerful caster, and one of the toughest people I know, as well as one of the smartest. But--" she stuck her arm into the Bag of Holding up to her shoulder, face scrunching up as she concentrated: "--you don't--have enough-- _armor_ \--" she found what she wanted and pulled it out triumphantly: "--for fighting dragons!"

"Uh..." she handed it to him and he grabbed it awkwardly, looking over the wooden surface with the emblem burned into it, the smooth-forged metal rim, the straps on the back side. "...you got me a shield?"

"A-yup." Extremely pleased with herself, she pulled another simpler buckler from the bag and came up beside him to demonstrate how to fasten it to the forearm. "I commissioned it from Zahra, actually! At the slumber party. I think you were out with Jon getting calamari at the time. And I thought, well, Scanlan can't keep getting tore up by dragons, you know? And I know you don't much like close-quarters fighting, but a shield is super useful, against physical and magical attacks both. And I've seen how you can cast even when your hands are full, that technique you use...what do you call it again?"

"War-casting," he said, then frowned uncertainly at his new shield even as he tried to imitate her example. "You really think I should learn this."

" _Yes_."

"Alright, but only if you promise that you'll keep practicing with that ocarina too."

"I do!" she said indignantly. "I practice every...well, almost ev...I mean, I have practiced?" He scrunched up his nose and stuck his tongue out a little at her, but with such a warm glow of affection that Pike impulsively lunged forwards and hugged him tightly. "I'll practice, I will. Please? At least try? I hate when you get hurt."

"...oh, all right," he said. "But only because I also kind of hate it when I get hurt."

" _Good_." She stepped back to the bag and, thinking hard, dug around in it and came up with a cutlass and rapier, collected by Grog who knew how long ago. "All the basic drills I know are for shield in one hand, weapon in the other," she explained, and handed him the rapier.

He hefted it, like he was working with old half-remembered training. There was a strange sense of nostalgia in his heart as he said, "Kaylie almost killed me with one like this."

"...wow. Well, um, when you see her again you won't embarrass yourself?"

He laughed, the wistful feeling vanishing like mist in sunlight, and shifted his arm in the shield's straps. "Oh, I'm sure I will. Let's give it a go anyway."

They practiced for hours, Pike casting small restorative spells as fatigue leadened their limbs, until finally she pronounced his grasp of the basics good and they collapsed in the sand, silk robes soaked with sweat. Seated back to back, his bony spine pressed into hers, they caught their breaths and Pike blew out all her breath in a long huff of frustration. "Hey, Scanlan?"

"Yes, my love?" he answered, and twisted to rub his cheek against the back of her head like a cat.

"Maybe we should just sleep together and see what happens."

"Pike!" he said immediately, his voice an injured whine. "I thought we agreed you can't joke like that with me!"

"Yeah, well, you should have thought of that when you wrote that letter! And proposed! And took back your proposal!" He shifted, started to pull away, and she moved with him to keep their backs pressed together. He felt as confused as she did, and it made her brave enough to continue. "And, well, I mean it. Maybe we should. What do you think?"

He stopped trying to move away but was so still for a minute she didn't think he was breathing. "I...have no idea what you want me to say."

"The truth, Scanlan," she said gently. It was kind of easier to talk to him like this, breathing together, with the channel between their hearts giving her a better read on him than she could get from his face. "Whatever it might be. I honestly don't know either way. I love you, and you love me, and I like sex, and you like sex, and it could be fun. Or maybe it would just make things hard, I don't know."

"You're killing me, here," he said, and his hand sought out her own and squeezed it. "...okay. How about this. We leave it up to fate."

"How do you mean?"

He released her hand and went over to the Bag of Holding, sticking his hand inside and coming up with something small in his fist. He returned to her side and sat cross-legged in front of her. He held up a gold piece. "What do you think?"

Pike nodded, slowly at first, then with increasing enthusiasm. "Yeah...yeah! Okay: crowns we do, mountains we don't. Agreed?"

"Agreed." He made the coin dance across his knuckles and gave her a come-hither look from underneath his eyelashes. "And you're sure I won't cheat to get the result I want?"

"If I wasn't sure, crowns wouldn't even be an option," she said dryly, and patted the sand in front of them into a slightly more solid surface. "Okay. I'm ready. Flip away."

And he did.


	7. Scene 5: Known

  
Vex drew in a long, deep, breath, and Pike sobbed in relief even as the newly-shorn half of her hair swung down and obscured her vision. She shoved it back harshly, beaming through her tears as her friend's lashes fluttered, dark eyes opening and fixing on her with the perceptive fire that was all Vex. "Hi!" Pike said roughly. Her body wanted to shake, with pain and stress and relief, but she dragged it under control with an effort of will and reached for the common healing potion in her pouch. She was interrupted by a wrench, a gut-deep searing tear so like the half-foggy memory of her own death that she instinctively put her hand to her middle where the scar was.

She realized what it was an instant later, staggering back to her feet and willing her worn, sturdy boots to work one last time, Vex's gaze already elsewhere as she looked for Vax and the others. Her sprint took her perilously close to the lava but she skidded to a halt and dropped to her knees beside one of the only cool spots in the awful place: a section rimed with already-vaporizing frost, centered on a frozen form. "Scanlan!" she cried, even though she knew he couldn't hear her, because that horrible severing she'd felt had been his soul coming away from his body and from her own soul. She dragged him half onto her lap, an awkward endeavor with her armor and his frozen form. For a moment she felt nothing but despair, sure that she didn't have the energy left to perform the spell, until she felt a surge of warmth against her chest as her holy symbol began to glow. She looked down at it, and saw swinging beside it her necklace, the magic necklace, and shouted for joy. Wrapping her arms determinedly around Scanlan's stiff body, she held the necklace in one hand and her holy symbol in the other.

"Hey, Scanlan," she said. "You once said you'd love me even in death, which was a very beautiful and very terrible thing to say. I hope it's true, because...well, your letter, it was all beautiful and terrible things too, and I know I made you a promise, but I made one to your daughter too, and, well. I've broken promises to you before, huh? But I have a _really_ good reason, I swear I do. I've been thinking, and there's a question that I think I want to ask you." The revivify spell almost seemed to cast itself, as her hands tightened around the pendants and her arms tightened around him, and she prayed as hard as she'd ever prayed in her life.

The body in her arms...softened. Fell limp, and she scooped it more securely into her lap-- _him_ more securely into her lap, off the dangerous ground, because even though the tie that bound them seemed frighteningly weak and foggy still, it was undeniably Scanlan's bright spirit that once again filled the form in her arms. "Don't do that! Ever!" Her voice broke, and she buried her face in his scorched hair.

"Don't cry," he said softly in her ear, his voice a spot of peace in the chaos of the battlefield. "I'm only a little cold."

 

**

 

"I don't know about this," she said.

"You don't need to," Scanlan replied, not unkindly but not kindly either. "I do, and I'm the one that's doing it."

Pike scooted closer on her knees and held out her hand: after a moment of consideration, Scanlan gave her the little pouch, and she peered into it curiously. "What even does it _do_?"

"Not sure. Something serious enough to get it banned. That's what I'm hoping, any way. It's fine, don't worry."

She crossed her arms and glared at him. "You always say that and I'm not sure it's true. It's so hard to tell!" Harder than ever since his brief death had weakened the binding between them. "You're a really, really, really good liar, Scanlan."

"And you're really, really bad at keeping your word," he snapped. She winced, guilty, and he sighed and massaged at his temples. "I'm _tired_ , Pike," he said eventually. "Everything keeps fucking happening. I need something to take the edge off."

"Okay." She handed the pouch back, but poked his chest very gently with her finger. "You know you better than I do. (Not for lack of trying!) But can you do something for me? Don't take it now. Wait till we're safe back at Greyskull or Whitestone or whatever, and we'll both do it. Just to see. We can take turns in case it's bad, or something. Do we have a deal?"

"I feel like I shouldn't agree..? You're supposed to be the good one."

"Oh, what does that even _mean_ ," she scoffed. "You're every bit as 'good' as I am, and if it's something that _I_ shouldn't try then it's something that _you_ shouldn't try as well. Besides, I'm curious now. And didn't we agree 'for better or for worse'?"

"Well, no, actually," he said, a little bit of the light back in his eyes. "We didn't agree anything, a cleric said some mumbo-jumbo and the gods stuck their noses in."

"It was celestial, not mumbo-jumbo," Pike said, trying to look wise and knowledgeable. "And I'm pretty sure there was some 'for better or for worse' stuff in there."

"Probably didn't include 'til death do us part' because it didn't."

She winced and shook her head, feeling the pull of unhealed burns as she did. "Too soon, Scanlan." She cleared her throat briskly to get rid of the quaver in it, and shuffled over to sit side-by-side with him. "And don't think I've forgotten that you need more lessons in _this_." She nudged his discarded shield with her toe. "You didn't hardly keep it up when you were casting! It's no good if you don't keep it up!"

"I've heard that particular phrase before," he said, and she snorted in laughter. "I've been a little busy, Pikey. It's not like you've practiced your musical talents."

"I have!" She said indignantly. "Just like I said I would! Didn't you hear me with what's-his-face's one, Garmelie or Artagan or whatever his name actually is?"

"You're a terrible liar," he said, but he said it very affectionately.

"And I break my word," she sighed. "And you're a great liar and you keep yours. What a pair, huh?"

"Match made in heaven," he agreed. His grip on the tarnished brass flute loosened, and he slid his arm around her shoulders: tentatively, like he always touched her, like she was fragile and precious, which was silly because he was clearly the fragile one.

"Beautiful and awful is you all over," she said, and leaned into his arm as comfortably as she could under the circumstances. "We'll talk later."


	8. Scene 6: Reminders

  
It was easy enough to slip away from the others on the way to the Crucible when she spotted the shop: she told them she was stopping to see a friend from her time in Vasselheim rebuilding Her temple, and that this friend was shy and Vox Machina were overwhelming. Her lies still needed work, and some of her family gave looks like they didn't believe her, but they still agreed to walk on ahead and wait outside of the Crucible for her to catch up. It was possible they thought she had some sort of secret lover that she was seeing, which...wasn't entirely untrue, was it?

A little bell over the door chimed as she entered, a clear silver musical note, and the proprietor looked up from where she had been reading a book. "Hello," she said, shopkeeper-to-customer over-friendly but with some real warmth in her voice. "Welcome. Can I help you find anything?"

"I'm looking for a gift," she said sheepishly, "For a friend. Sort of a welcome-back present. Maybe some earrings? Something pretty, I don't know."

The dwarven woman smiled wider and set her book aside, running a thoughtful hand through her beard. "A pretty for a friend, is it? Don't take this the wrong way, ma'am, but I don't have a lot of trinkets here. I can direct you to another jewelry store if my wares end up being too rich for your blood, with no ill will."

"Well, I'll look first," Pike said. Her eyes fell upon the glittering cornucopia on the wall and she felt herself wilt a little. The shopkeeper laughed.

"Overwhelming, isn't it? Let's see if we can't decide together, shall we?"

In a trice, the lady had helped Pike find something that would suit Scanlan's tastes: and Pike thought they were pretty as well, intricately knotted dangles of mithril wire threaded with tiny sparkling amethysts. The price was dear but not too dear, and Pike pulled out the smaller pouch she kept her spending money in and counted out 50 gold pieces diligently. The purse when she put it back was much depleted, but she accepted the individually wrapped earrings with satisfaction and started to tuck them away before slowing to a stop as she looked at the items on display under the glass counter, the ones that had been drawing her gaze off and on the whole time she'd been there. She looked up and the shopkeeper was gazing at her with a very fond, knowing look that made Pike adjust her guess on the woman's age to actually being more than her own 40-odd years.

"I can give you a good deal on a set," she said innocently, splaying her hands out on the counter so that the two rings on her own left hand caught the light. "Since you've already bought something."

Pike was smiling, brighter and brighter as she really turned the idea over in her mind, before tipping her head back in a shout of laughter. "You know what?" she said when she'd recovered. "Fuck it. The white-gold ones, there, the gnome-sized set." She pulled out another pouch, this one heavier and usually kept tucked away safely inside her pack, and paid for the rings as well. She put rings and earrings both inside the purse and stowed it safely back in her bag. Oh, imagine his face when he saw!

 

***

Pike felt completely tired and wrung-out from weeping, the more so for trying to not make any sounds while doing so. Her face felt so numb that when she swiped a hand across it to mop up the tears she couldn't hardly feel it, but she nonetheless forced herself to move: Scanlan was throwing all his belongings together in two packs, the other members of Vox Machina (except Percy, who was long gone) standing well clear and showing their agitation each in their own individual ways. Pike started going through his clothes, retrieving one of the the packs that had been left lying as Scanlan more carefully packed valuables and instruments and the like in the other. He gave her as wide a berth as the rest of their family was giving him, and she took the chance on impulse to pull out a money pouch--because he was so bad with money, wasn't he? He really was.

She looked around compulsively to make sure she was unseen: Vex was normally so terribly observant, but she was in no condition to be noticing Pike's actions right now. The only one who did seem to notice was Kaylie, but she just nodded very slightly, eyes shying away from Pike's tear-stained face, and shifted slightly to be standing more directly between her father and the other gnome in the room. With fumbling fingers Pike removed the...the rings, and started to do the earrings too before stopping herself. With a deep shaking sigh she removed one of the earrings, just one, and tucked the other in with the gold before secreting the pouch in among Scanlan's clothes. It was Kaylie who took the pack from her, still not meeting her face directly but with something wry and a little kind in the set of her mouth, and then father and daughter were out the door.

"He has to do this." Her voice sounded strangled to her own ears, and she swallowed convulsively. "He has to. Right?" There was no answer from the others, just a roughly compassionate pat to the head as Grog went past her and in the direction Percy had gone. "... _shit_ ," she said passionately, and took off in the opposite direction down the hall. She clank-clank-clanked, as unstealthy as ever, and for a moment she was sure that Scanlan would Dimension Door away rather than risk meeting her but for whatever reason he didn't and she caught up with the two of them in a trice. She skidded to a halt in front of the two of them, and found herself struggling with conflicting desires.

For the same reason she had found herself unable to speak back in the bedroom--because what if he didn't accept it? What if he _did_? What if she said the wrong thing--which she usually did--she wasn't good at speaking like Vex or Percy or Scanlan--and made things even _worse_? Her heart ached, and her throat ached, and the place on her wrist where the binding had been tied, oh, such a long time ago, was raw with rubbing. She couldn't _feel_ him any more--not since he came back the first time, and even more now. What if it was because he didn't _want_ to be connected with her any more? Connected by 'unnatural magic'. It might be so.

"Cat got your tongue, Trickfoot?" Kaylie said.

Pike snapped out of it, still not entirely able to look at Scanlan still, and went up to the girl who was almost of a height with her, and reached out to take her hands carefully. Kaylie allowed it, flexing her shoulders a little, and looked calm and insouciant in a way that Pike thought she recognized. "Take care of yourself, okay?" She said. "You're a very smart person, and you can do what you like, but please take care of yourself. Maybe just give your liver a little break, huh? Gotta live long enough to cause trouble for years to come." Releasing one hand to clasp her holy symbol, she let her eyes fall closed and cast a restorative spell. When she opened her eyes again, Kaylie was giving her a much more intense, even more unreadable look.

"No promises," Kaylie said. Her mouth quirked up at the corners as she said it though.

"Thank you." Pike released her hand and turned to her husband, hastily letting go of her holy symbol and tucking her hands behind her back. She opened her mouth to say something, she didn't know what, but her throat had closed up and she had to clear her throat harshly. "...bye, Scanlan," she finally managed.

He looked at her, finally, although he still didn't quite meet her eyes. "Bye, Pike," he replied. "I know you'll look after them."

Was there a _like you didn't look after me_ in that, or was Pike just paranoid? She clenched her hands behind her back, taking a slow careful breath, because while he had every right to be upset and every right to leave, a lot of what had been said today had been very, very unfair, and she was pretty sure he was too smart by half to not know that. Driven by an impulse that was hurt, and repentant, and maybe even a little mean, she leaned down a little to whisper in his ear: "Ronazibar." He was very still. "My mother's name. Just so you know." She pulled back and, with a nod to Kaylie, went back the way she'd came.

 

***

She didn't speak into her earring every night, especially if there were other members of Vox Machina close by who would possibly hear: but she did often enough. She always ended it with "I miss you," and whenever she slipped off the earring it went into the pocket that held another, one that she couldn't bring herself to wear--or to put away, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _this one was really hard to write! ...if you couldn't tell by how long it took to write it. idk if anyone is reading this still, but there is still an epilogue planned. (I don't particularly like downer endings)_


	9. Epilogue: The Beginning

  
The Shadowfell was like one long night terror, and Pike was pretty well sick of it.

It had been...how long had it been? Weeks, at least. Months, maybe. The plane of shadows distorted time and space in a deathly mirror of the over-bright madness of the Feywilde, and the days slipped by like a waking nightmare. There was no getting around it: you couldn't just plane shift into the Shadowfell and waltz up to Orcus and firestorm the fucker, no matter how nice and simple that seemed. Vox Machina were something not unlike gods these days, but as Keyleth had so messily proven even demigods were subject to gravity. None of the council had come with them, by necessity, but Allura and the Raven Queen's high priest had between themselves come up with the diagram around which Vox Machina was planning. A series of rituals, weakening barriers there, strengthening them here: hopefully, cutting off Orcus' (and Vecna's) means of support while rendering the plane more assailable to other divine forces. The Raven Queen, despite her affinity with this place, was as hindered by the Divine Gates as all the gods.

(Except Pike's goddess--she'd reached beyond the Gates _herself_ , and _punched a dragon_! For Pike and her family!)

It was a good plan, which was more than they could usually boast...but it took weeks. Travelling the old-fashioned way, walk, sneak, clear out the trash, ritual, rinse, repeat. They'd stayed in the mansion once or twice, when the lure of perfectly safe sleep overcame the hesitation to burn one of Scanlan's spells when not entirely necessary, but it proved to have its own dangers: coming out the door to realize the landscape had shifted around them, or a swarm of the dead had surrounded the place. Now they mostly camped a mile or more from the ritual sites, taking watch in shifts of two. Keyleth and Grog had taken the first shift, and now it was Pike and Scanlan's turn. They posted up near their sleeping companions, Pike's divine senses enabling her to feel the approach of any foes more quickly than anyone else but Vax, and sat mostly in silence.

Scanlan had talked constantly, in the beginning--of course he had--and Pike had made a deliberate choice to...not shun him, but not really engage with him either. Letting Scanlan talk to you was a bit like letting Grog get into melee range with you. Papa Wilhand had a saying, she recalled: "Never wrestle with a pig in mud, my dumpling. The pig is on his home turf: he'll win, you'll get dirty, and more than that! He'll _enjoy_ himself." Scanlan wasn't a pig (well, or only sometimes, and in a fun way) but she thought the advice still stood. They had switched up watch partners often in the beginning, largely based on who could best get along with whom, but after the first week or so it had settled into set pairs whose skills complemented each other best. So now every night it was Grog and Keyleth, Scanlan and Pike, Tary and Vex, and Percy and Vax. After two or three weeks of never being more than ten yards from each others' sides, Pike had found to her enormous relief that her connection to Scanlan seemed to be coming back to life: it had been dormant rather than destroyed following his deaths and resurrection. It gave her a confidence to know (at least in part) what his true feelings were that allowed her to slowly grow to trust him again...and perhaps it did the same to him as well, since his prattle became less nervous and more comfortable. Less trying to get something and more willing to give.

"Not long," he said now, the first words spoken of this particular watch. "Only, what, three more to go and then we can march blithely to our doom."

"That's enough of that defeatist talk, mister," she replied. There was a shade approaching camp from the east, and she let it get in range before saying a quick Sacred Flame cantrip that destroyed it in a silent flare of radiant fire.

"Think you could teach me that, Pikey?"

"What, the cantrip?" She asked. "You tired of insulting them to death or something?"

"It just doesn't have quite the same impact," he said.

"Hmm, _I_ think it's pretty cool. Anyway, I could teach you, but it's divine magic, not arcane--I'm not sure it would work for you, since you don't worship any of the gods."

"Hey, me and Shelyn are like _this_ ," he said, weaving his fingers together before clearing his throat a little uncertainly. Pike rubbed her wrist, a nervous habit acquired when the bond first broke, and Scanlan fiddled with the earring that dangled from his right ear: also a habit picked up in the last year. He hadn't been wearing the mithril-and-amethyst bangle when they'd first reunited, but it had appeared in his ear one day not a week after the reunion, only the habitual flick-flick-flick showing how often it'd been worn.

"...you feel ok?" She asked, winding the end of a braid around her finger. Ring finger, the short one. Twist, twist, twist.

"Sure. Fine as frog hair," he replied, and she hummed in response. He stopped his fiddling and instead ran his thumb slowly back and forth across his lower lip. "Sorry. Bad habit, right?"

"You can lie all you want, Scanlan," she told him, deliberately not following the movement of that teasing thumb. "It's not like you have a divine edict to be forthright. And you know that I like the occasional whopper myself." She stopped torturing her hair and raised a warning finger in his face. "What you _cannot_ do is get mad at me if I believe you."

There was a flicker of a broken expression on his face that was subsumed by something more warm. His left hand inched towards hers on the ground and they touched--just the pinkies. Pike didn't move away. "Okay."

"A bit silly," Pike said abruptly. He raised his brow at her and she reached over to flick the earring herself. "Just one, like this. Dangle, dangle, dangle."

He was motionless for a moment, like he thought shifting would scare her away, and he cleared his throat. "Well, you know, it...well." He bit down on a thumbnail and spoke around it: "Taryon wears just one."

"I love Tary. But it's a bit silly on him, too," Pike said. Scanlan opened his mouth then closed it, with a faint high-pitched noise he made sometimes when he really had no idea what to do. Pike took mercy on him and sighed, feeling the deep well of fondness that had so far proven too strong to be wiped out by bitterness. "Here." She dug in her belt pouch and, with an effort that had nothing to do with the trinket's weight, pulled out the other one of the pair. She had never unwrapped or wore it, but the threadbare quality of the linen wrapping showed clear evidence of much being worried at by fingers. She passed it over to him, trying to be casual, and he accepted it with two hands like it was as fragile as a bird's egg.

"Oi," he said very softly, as he unwrapped it. "You don't have to...."

"I know I don't, shut up," she said and with an effort looked away to do a scan of the surrounding woods. No dangers in sight: and when she turned back to him the second earring was hung in his left ear, a perfect mirror to its mate. "That's better."

 

***

 

They had left Tary waiting at the portal--a group decision, which meant it had taken at least ten hours over the course of multiple days to decide. He charged all the coins he could with spells, cast a few other helpful spells on them directly, cried just a little into Vex's hair, and turned invisible to wait in case everything went entirely to shit. He had the gatestone and the other half was with Allura: if all seemed lost he would go through the portal back to the Prime Material plane, get some distance on his broom, and teleport back to Whitestone to help with the "well now what?" version of the doomsday plans. Vox Machina had left him behind with a mix of determined good cheer and practiced blase. Scanlan...had been kind. Taryon wasn't a bad kid, in the end. Pike had looked at him afterwords, quietly surprised and approving, and Scanlan had been equal parts proud (the approval) and deeply ashamed (the surprise).

Scanlan would have thought he would have been a puddle of terror at this point, right on the cusp of certain death. There was terror, of course, but mostly he felt determination and a strange sense of...peace.

His weird peace was interrupted as Pike grabbed his wrist and dragged him a little ways away: in the last moments of preparation before taking on a _**god** , holy shit, they were all a bunch of lunatics_, everyone was doing their version of ready. The twins were bent together with Trinket, a knot of dark hair and quietly passionate reassurance, as the other three looked over weapons and spell components with composure of varying convincing-ness. Pike's absconding with her fellow gnome was noticed but not remarked on. She took them out of immediate earshot but well within view and sprinting distance and pulled him around in front of her. She wasn't frowning, exactly, but her eyes were ocean-trench blue and a lot older than her bare half-century of years. "Scanlan?"

"Yes, my love?" he asked, then winced and squirmed at the habitual title as well as the way she didn't react to it. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm always okay," she said lightly. He deserved it: she gave him an apologetic smile anyway, although she didn't take back the reassurance.

"Well, I'm not." He reached out for her hands and she allowed them to be taken, the ogre-faces on the back of her gauntlets peeking out as the silly seashell ornaments over them twisted with the movement of her beautiful hands. "I'm scared shitless. And you know me and shit." She snorted with laughter at that, and on impulse he bent at the waist, pulling her hands to his face and kissing each one.

"Well, I mean, it makes sense. There's a pretty high liklihood we may die."

"Oi! That's enough defeatist talk from you, missy."

She gently pulled her hands back and clasped them around her holy symbol. "I just mean...oh, I don't know what I mean. If we might--since we, since we--if it--" she threw her hands in the air, snarled "Fuck!" and scrabbled at her belt pouch.

"Honey, what--" her hand came out with a glint of white metal too bright to be silver, and she thrust it towards him.

"We should just get married then!" She burst out.

Scanlan...um. Well.

He didn't faint! But he did freeze, and his vision went a little dark at the edges, and he made a righteously embarrassing sound. Pike didn't help at all either, still holding out the thing and flushing dark clear to the tips of her ears. Her hand, however, didn't shake, and she met his eyes challengingly.

"...Pike," he said after a long long pause. "Pike, I...I don't...you don't...."

"Yes or no, Shorthalt," she cut in firmly, still flushed but with a mulish tilt to her chin. "It's a simple question with a simple answer. Don't try and twist it up."

It was really quite simple, he found, when he thought about it. The only thing to say, of course, was: " _Yes_."

Her whole body sagged, the tension going out of it, and she beamed at him so brightly that he felt a bit faint again. "Oh! Thank Sarenrae! Not being married to you is the _worst_ , it's about time we put things right." And so saying, she snatched up his left hand and slid a simple white-gold band on the fourth finger. The other ring she pointedly held out until he took it from her: the fourth finger of Pike's right hand was missing the tip, and he stopped with the ring just near that old faded scar.

"Aren't the rings supposed to go on during a ceremony of some sort? We've got it all backwards again."

"Well, I'm not going to fight a god with us _not_ married. Let's do it now."

"But--" he floundered. "But--Kaylie's not here! Nor Wilhand! And there's no cleric!"

"No cleric, huh?" With her right hand she clasped her holy symbol and cleared her throat. "I, Pike Trickfoot, do indeed take Scanlan Shortalt, to have and to hold, to hold and to keep, to keep and to cherish, to cherish and to protect, to get in trouble with and to get out of trouble for. Do you, Scanlan Shorthalt...uh..."

"Swear to have and to hold, to love and to honor, to remember and to forgive, to walk beside and stand behind?"

She cleared her throat, a little teary-eyed, and laughed. "Well, do you?"

"Well...yes."

" _What the fuck??_ " was heard faintly in the distance, and they both saw that Vex was watching them and flailing her long wiry arms furiously. " _What. The. Fuck???_ "

"Lip-reading," Scanlan said with loving disgust. "That little brat."

Pike drew him closer as he belatedly slid the ring on her finger and gave him a wicked, merry, kind, challenging smile. "Wanna give them something to talk about?"

"You are going to love learning all the things I can do with my mouth, Mrs. Shorthalt," he swore fervently.

"Stop talking for a second and kiss me, Trickfoot," she said.

And that was simple too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _well there it is! and in time for Ep 100! thank you for reading, and please let me know if you liked it. ^^ huzzah!_


End file.
